


Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?

by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)



Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Softie, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hungover Stiles Stilinski, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasterella/pseuds/isthatbloodonhisshirt
Summary: If he had his way, he wasn’t leaving this bed. This wonderful, warm, comfortable bed that was making his painful throbbing head, and neck, and legs, andeyelasheshurt just one percent less.It was the sheets. They were like, Egyptian cotton or something. Stiles didn’t know what Egyptian cottonwasor what it felt like, but apparently it was amazing, so he concluded that Derek had sheets of Egyptian cotton.That or silk.Stiles didn’t know, he wasn’t a connoisseur of sheets. Was that a thing? Probably, everything was a ‘thing’ these days.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Spreading Positivity 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667605
Comments: 31
Kudos: 1095





	Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?

Everything hurt. Literally every single inch of his entire body hurt right now. His head hurt, his neck hurt, his legs hurt, even his fucking _eyelashes_ hurt. He was pretty sure eyelashes didn’t have pain receptors but, nope. Those definitely also hurt. 

Man, he’d gone _hard_ last night. It was Scott’s fault. And Jackson’s. And Malia’s. Fuck all his friends, really, Werewolves were the worst. Well, and Werecoyotes, considering Malia. But they found it just _so_ entertaining when the token human got drunk and it wasn’t like Stiles was going to say _no_ to free alcohol! So every time one of them handed him a beer, he drank it. 

Thankfully they’d kept an eye on him and made sure he didn’t go alcohol-poison-levels of drunk, but _man_ was he hammered. He didn’t even remember making it home. 

That was probably because he hadn’t _made_ it home, which explained why he didn’t remember making it there. And he only knew he wasn’t home because he could feel his boyfriend’s judgy-brows. 

Right. He forgot he was coming home today. Stiles had made plans to come over and welcome him home with like, brownies or a cake or something. Yeah, that wasn’t happening. If he had his way, he wasn’t leaving this bed. This wonderful, warm, comfortable bed that was making his painful throbbing head, and neck, and legs, and _eyelashes_ hurt just one percent less. 

It was the sheets. They were like, Egyptian cotton or something. Stiles didn’t know what Egyptian cotton _was_ or what it felt like, but apparently it was amazing, so he concluded that Derek had sheets of Egyptian cotton. 

That or silk.

Stiles didn’t know, he wasn’t a connoisseur of sheets. Was that a thing? Probably, everything was a ‘thing’ these days. 

He heard Derek let out an aggrieved sigh. He totally knew Stiles was awake and pretending to still be unconscious. Dammit, Werewolves really _were_ the worst. 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” Derek finally asked.

Was he naked? Stiles hadn’t noticed. It explained why everything felt so soft though, even as he continued to die inside from how much pain he was in. 

“You like me naked,” he mumbled in response, because it was true. Derek _did_ love him naked. He often was the cause of Stiles’ nakedness.

He was also the cause of Stiles constantly having to buy new clothes. Derek got very impatient when he was horny, and Werewolf strength plus impatience meant a lot of new clothes for Stiles. He’d once even ripped his jeans off.

His _jeans_! Like, right off. Just slashed right through them. Stiles had worried about his dick, but Derek had promised he wouldn’t _ever_ risk damaging that part of him. Didn’t really instill much confidence in Stiles considering he had many other parts he quite liked aside from his dick, but at least his dick was safe! 

“I do like you naked,” Derek confirmed. “But you’re not usually stinking of vomit when you’re naked with me. Also what did you do to my laundry machine?” 

“Wish I could tell you,” Stiles said sincerely. “But I have no idea. I did something to your laundry machine?” 

Derek just sighed again and Stiles felt the bed dip. He whined and buried his face in the pillow he was lying on—it smelled like Derek, so he was evidently on Derek’s side of the bed. He felt a gentle hand sliding through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Another hand pressed lightly against his shoulder and Stiles groaned in relief when he felt some of his pain ebbing. 

He knew the pain would come back later, but it would be muted, and he’d hopefully be way less hungover by then so it wouldn’t be as bad as right now. Or, a few seconds ago anyway, considering the whole pain-sucking thing. 

Werewolves were the _best_ when they weren’t the _worst_. 

“Thanks.” Stiles shifted slightly, too comfortable to sit up now that the pain was gone and he was lying in Derek’s comfy bed with said individual scratching at his scalp. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, even when you destroy my loft while I’m away.” Derek’s fingers slid through his hair a few times before he went back to scratching at his scalp. “Went drinking?” 

“Mm,” Stiles confirmed, feeling weightless and comfy. He was liable to fall right back to sleep. “Scott. Jackson. Malia.” 

“That explains a lot,” Derek said. “Someone drove you here, because the Jeep’s not out front.” 

“Closer,” Stiles said. Which was true. Also going home would’ve meant facing the sheriff, and none of his friends were brave enough to help a drunk Stiles into the sheriff’s house. Not even Scott.

Especially not Scott. After all, he’d get the judgy eyes from the sheriff in a very clear, “Why didn’t you watch him and stop him from getting trashed?” Nobody liked judgy sheriff eyes, they were worse than judgy Alpha Werewolf/boyfriend eyes. 

“What did I do to the laundry machine?” Stiles asked, eyes closed and enjoying the head scritches. He was like, a cat in a previous life or something. He liked lying in sunny patches, he liked sleeping, he was a sassy little shit, he enjoyed head scritches. All prime cat behaviour. 

“I think you threw up on yourself at some point,” Derek informed him. Well, that explained why he smelled like vomit. “I think you tried to do a wash while you were still drunk, which explains the nakedness. I appreciate you not climbing into bed with vomit-covered clothes.” 

“Anything for you,” Stiles said with a small smile, groaning when Derek’s hand slid down to knead his neck before he shifted to rub it up and down his back in a smooth, soothing motion. 

“Well, you put a dryer sheet in the soap slot, and you started the machine with the door open so it was screaming at me the second I was close enough to hear it.” 

“Didn’t break it, did I?” 

“No, it’s fine. I replaced the dryer sheet with soap and started the machine properly.” 

“You’re the best boyfriend ever.” 

“Yeah, you’re lucky.” Derek kissed his visible temple before standing. “Get some clothes on, I’ll make you some eggs.” 

“Seriously,” Stiles called while Derek headed for the stairs. “Best boyfriend!” 

He heard Derek let out a small laugh and couldn’t help but smile into his pillow. Derek truly _was_ the best boyfriend ever. 

He was so lucky he was _his_. 

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> Teen Wolf (c) Jeff Davis
> 
> Come chill with me on [Tumblr](https://isthatbloodonhisshirt.tumblr.com/).


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